


Mediation Period

by moon_opals



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: F/M, Family, Hatching, Pre-Canon, The Last Crash of the Sunchaser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-27 21:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15693921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_opals/pseuds/moon_opals
Summary: Louie waited 48 minutes to hatch. At ten minutes Donald had the engine revving with Dewey and Huey buckled securely in their seat-belts. Good thing he wasn't alone.





	Mediation Period

“It’s perfectly normal for eggs to take up to an hour to hatch.” Daisy drummed her knees nervously, studying the anxious lines making rounds near Donald’s beak and eyes, “It took June thirty minutes to hatch.”

Donald fisted one hand into the other, pushing them up under his beak in anticipation. He rocked gently, staring at the last unhatched egg, “It’s been thirty-five minutes.” Daisy winced.

“Yes.” Daisy agreed - there wasn’t anything else for her to say, “Sometimes, an egg can take up to an hour and a half,” she reminded him, “remember what the doctor said?”

“I remember what the doctor said.” His replied was coated in a pitch where his voice tightened, strengthened, and suddenly relaxed at the last minute, “But in that hour she also said there were chances for developmental and physical complications.”

Her stares fluttered from his anxious bobble to the opposite nest where two ducklings slept soundly, snuggled around each other. Only a thirty-seven minutes old and they seemed to settle right into the life of a sibling. Huey - dressed in a warm, Greft scented red onesie snuggled against Dewey, whose blue onesie seemed to bunch and wrinkle under his fitful movements.

Daisy chuckled. Her chuckled flat-lined into a sharp inhale, “If an hour passes without any changes,” her nails twisted on her exposed knees “then we’ll take the boys and egg to the hospital for an earlier than planned visit.”

Donald nodded, “Fifty minutes,” his exhausted rimmed stare made her stomach curl from the inside out, “if it passes fifty minutes we’ll take them to the hospital.”

“Okay,” Daisy agreed.

It felt like an eternity, but the forty-five minute mark was hit in an expected manner. Donald remained put, never leaving their side, and his gentle, steady rocks started to increase in their vitality. He was almost frantic, and she watched feathers pop off his skin in stress. Whatever she might’ve said to comfort him would’ve fallen on deaf ears, and she decided it was best to make sure the keys and cellphone were in safe distance of each other.

She ruffled through the kitchen’s drawers, searching for where she left her spare phone. In a fit of anger, she couldn’t remember why - probably something Donna had told her, she smashed the original against the wall and hastily purchased its replacement for an additional $125.00. Her keys were where she left them last, and she snatched them off the wall ring, heading back to her living room floor when she heard Donald’s, “Get the camera!”

Her box braids rattled on her back as she dashed back. Grabbing the camera off the coffee table, and she let out a tiny gasp as the third egg began to hatch.

“When did it start?” Gasping, she hoisted the heavy camera on her shoulder, leaning in for a better view, “Oh gosh, oh gosh, Donald you have the towel, right?”

“Yeah!” Towel visible in hand, he kneeled in front of the slowly cracking egg, “Come on, buddy, come on.”

A little to the left, a little to the right, and there it was, a single crack at the head of the egg. And then another. And then another. In slow, patient succession the shell chipped away. They stood in eager fascination, hearing the weak quack-cries signifying the infant lived. The egg toppled forward. Donald and Daisy gasped.

“Donnie, I think he’s stuck.”

“You’re right.” He smacked his lips, “What should we do?”

“Um. Um.” She thought quickly, balancing the heavy camera on her shoulder, “I have an unused kit in my purse. There’s a pair of tweezers.”

Donald followed her instructions in a hurry, finding the medium sized plastic container, and beside it an unopened Snicker’s bar, “Seriously, Daisy,” stuffing it back into her purse, she tsked at him in slight annoyance, “so what do I now?”

Seated back, the infant tried to claw his way up, but was too weak. He gave up in less than a second. Donald tucked the towel underneath him.

“Start with the broken parts first,” Daisy instructed, shifting the camera on her other arm. “Be gentle, you don’t want to go too quickly,” she watched as Donald started to pick inch by inch, flicking away the shell in various locations. He was cautious, as cautious as he could be, but his right hand didn’t stop jittering.

Daisy stared, “Donald.”

“Yes, Daisy?” Another loud crack and a chunk of egg white fell into the nest. The baby snored.

“Give me the tweezers.”

Their exchange was quick. Donald hoisted the camera on his shoulder, and Daisy kneeled in front of the nest. She tucked the towel beneath the baby, and snapping the tweezers, she chipped the shell for easier access.

“Come on baby,” tickling his chubby little chin, “come on, you need to wiggle out for Aunt Daisy.”

“I think he’s moving.” Donald pointed, “Y’see? Look at his little legs.”

“Hold the camera still, Donnie.”

“Sorry.”

She moved fast, but efficiently. She tickled the baby’s under belly until she coaxed him to wiggle his way out, and his annoyed whimpers, sleep must have been peaceful, brought giggles to their lips.

“Ah-ha!” The tweezers fell to the floor, and she wrapped him completely into the towel, wiping the residual membrane off his fuzzy, little body. His whimpers dissolved into tears, “Oh, oh, I’m sorry little fella,” she found the green onesie Donald had set outside, “y’know, he really does look like a Llewellyn.”

“Heh.” He stopped the recording, setting the camera on the table, and sat beside them, “He seems to be breathing okay.”

“I think he’s just lazy,” Daisy chuckled. She caressed his downy feathers, grazing through their grazen fields, “Oh man, this is soft, like crazy - super soft. I love duckling feathers.”Able to rest at last, they watched the youngest triplet quack a small yawn as he turned turned into Daisy’s waiting breast. Donald grinned weakly. The morning’s adrenaline pumped at a less feverish speed, and he slumped against the worn couch, pretending the odd springs weren’t pushing into his back.

“Llewellyn.” Daisy hummed, rubbing Louie’s back gently, “And Hubert, and Dewford,” she positioned him in an upright position over her shoulder, letting her smile broaden a little, “I’ll admit Della had unique tastes.”

Donald’s grin faltered, sinking beneath a rage of poorly restrained rage. “I wish she had better tastes to stick around,” rolling near them, he rubbed one of Louie’s toes, “she knew better. She knew.”

“She planned to come back, Donald.” Even as she spoke them, Daisy tested her belief. Gazing at Louie and his brothers nearby, she couldn’t imagine what pushed Della into believing an experimental rocket trip was feasible, “She lost sight of things. That’s all.”

“And now, she’s lost,” Donald scoffed. Anger flashed across his features briefly until a tidal wave of exhaustion overcame him. He went to nest, bundling Huey and Dewey to his chest, and sat beside them.

“Donald?” Several minutes passed, they were fast asleep in their arms, “Hey, Donnie?”

He opened his left eye, also dozing off, “Yeah, Daisy?”

“You’re not alone.” A faint blush crossed her features and grew brighter the longer she spoke, “I’m here. I’ll do my best.  We can do this.”

Donald wanted to stop her. He wanted to correct her, but he sighed instead, a ghost of a smile peeling over his beak, “Yeah,” he shifted on the position until their shoulders touched, “we’ll do it.”

“They’ll be happy,” she yawned.

Louie whined sleepily at the sound, but made no further movements. Huey stirred weakly in his arm. Dewey’s almost inaudible snores sped through like whistles. Donald’s grimace fractured into a partial grin.

For now, this was acceptable, Donald decided. He snuggled them close, relieved to hear their steady heartbeats, and maybe, just maybe, a tear or two freed themselves from his eyes.

“And safe,” he murmured.

**Author's Note:**

> Knowing HDL were not hatched when Della went missing makes me sad, and I really don't like thinking about Donald having to rejoice in the miracle of childbirth totally alone.


End file.
